Katy Evans - Tycoon(ang.).pdf

To what if…

“Who Knew” by Pink “Better Than Me” by Hinder “Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran “Climax” by Usher “Let Me Hold You (Turn Me On)” by Cheat Codes and Dante Klein “Show Me What I’m Looking For” by Carolina Liar “Alone Together” by Frat Out Boy “Under Control” by Calvin Harris and Alesso “Every Breaking Wave” by U2 “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur “One” by U2

Bryn It’s a project that my parents would be proud of; that I’m proud of. I don’t get why nobody else sees the potential. Why the bankers won’t take my calls after a pitch. Or why my friend Jensen is the fifth person I’ve had to beg to get a meeting with the most powerful investor in the city—my last chance to convince someone my idea is good enough to fund. There have been so many NO’s, that when my phone rings late that evening and I see Jensen’s number blink on my screen, I almost can’t bear to hear it another time. It takes me a few seconds, and a great pull of breath, to gather the courage to pick up and croak, “Yes?” “Bryn, baby,” Jensen says. I hold my breath and clutch my cell a little tighter, my stomach in knots because I dread his most likely next words. That the investor I’m dying to see told Jensen that there is no way in hell he will— "You got it. Tomorrow. His place at 8 p.m. Don't be late. He doesn’t usually see anyone outside the office but it’s the only time he could squeeze you in." It takes me a moment to grasp what he is saying. “Ohmigod! Jensen, thank

you!" “No worries, post me,” he says with a little chuckle. “I will,” I promise before hanging up. I throw my cell phone on the bed, and then I follow, grabbing my pillow and clutching it to my chest as I roll to my back. Holy shit! It’s on, baby. I’m not sure my friend Jensen knows how grateful I am, but I would’ve squeezed the breath out of him if we hadn’t been speaking on the phone. Finally. I’ve got a meeting. With him. The legend. The guy with the Midas touch, and the golden eyes to match. I fall asleep with a bundle of nerves in my stomach, tossing and turning in bed as I wonder what this man will see in me…what he will say about my project. I spend the entire next day re-writing my pitch to be sure that I get it right. I wish that Sara, my roommate, wasn’t working all day because I have no one to practice with. Talking to myself in the mirror doesn’t have the same punch when I’ve heard the pitch a thousand times in my mind already. Nerves accompany me as I take the train to the Upper East Side. I check the address Jensen sent me, exhaling as I wait for my stop. I’m fully aware that this meeting can go one of four ways. He’ll give me the money. He’ll give me only part of the money. He won’t give me the money. And back to point c.), I’ll realize that I have run out of options and I’m supremely royally fucked. I’ll have to realize that I was dreaming and that this project sucks as much as everybody claims it does (everybody but me), or I’ll have to…well, I don’t know how I can get this project off the ground without any money. So, back to being fucked. It’s not like I can go back to Toasts and Bagels. They made it very clear I was the worst waitress in the world. Always “daydreaming”. Forever fired. But enough pessimism. I still have option a.) He’ll give me the money. He’s supposed to be a big risk taker and he takes companies no banks will touch, and

no sane person would look at, and he explodes them. He takes them to the stratosphere. Okay…I admit I don’t believe it, but I’m desperate. When I heard his name, and recognized it, I decided it wouldn’t hurt. I mean, what other option do I have? The four options I listed involve needing someone to invest in my business, and the bankers don’t want to see my face anymore. As I ride the train to the address I was given, I’m uncomfortably warm in my jacket. Perspiration clings to my forehead, between my breasts, and pops up on my palms. Relax, Bryn. You won’t cause a good impression sweating and panting. Checking my texts through my cracked phone screen, I reread my best friend’s message in reply to the text I sent her last night. I’m completely uninspired without you here Becka is a starving artist/writer poet. She’s not really really starving but, you know what I mean. She’s waiting for a big break. I suppose we all are. Miss you too, Becks! I text back. But I’ve got THE appointment! OMG! Go get your money honey. Dazzle him so he won’t stand a chance, but then you always did dazzle that guy Totally not true. But I’ll post you. I hop off the train and walk several walks to his building. It’s a brownstone in Park Avenue, one of the most elite of the elite spaces in town. My lungs feel a little bit overworked from awe as I head up the steps to the double doors, grateful that I came dressed to kill in a little black dress, a jacket, and pumps. Simple, but effective. See, I may be feeling a little awkward, but at least I don’t look it.

I’m greeted by his maid. She’s dressed in black and white, her hair drawn back in a neat bun, her expression stoic and formal as she leads me down the hall to a gorgeous study. I catch my breath when I notice all the books and shelves. It’s like a reader’s paradise in here. There’s a sleek chrome bar, a modern mahogany glass-topped desk, and two huge whiskey-colored leather chairs that almost swallow me up when I’m instructed to wait in one. I drum my fingers, inhaling the scent of leather and wine, remembering a guy I knew with his mechanic navy-blue uniform, black streaks on his jaw, his big nose always the first thing you’d see, which was a pity because he had beautiful eyes and a really sinful pair of lips. He’s living in luxury now. Wow. Good for him. I hear footsteps approaching and the little hair on my arms prick at attention. My head turns as a tall, dark figure steps into the room, and the most intimidating guy I’ve ever seen enters and crosses the room toward the desk. He walks like he’s the shit…his strides proud and composed, elegant and powerful. Christos, I hear myself breathe in surprise. He’s so tall now…six three, at least. Dirty-blonde hair, gold-green eyes, chiseled jaw, and a gorgeous profile. All in black, he looks very much a New Yorker. He’s wearing a black jacket, black pants, and a black turtleneck beneath the jacket… I stare at him, my jaw hanging a little bit open. The man is…all man. Testosterone. Muscles. Height. Width. My chest hurts all of a sudden because I realize… The boy you knew is gone. I force myself to stand. “Thank you for seeing me.” He heads to the bar to pour two drinks, then he prowls over, takes the whiskey leather chair across from mine and leans forward, pushing a glass of cognac with one finger across a small table, toward me.

And he waits. In silence. But my stomach dips as if he’d said something ultra-sexy and decadent. “You might not remember me, I’m sorry to be reaching out like this,” I say, nervous. “What do you want?” There’s a pleasant shiver as he speaks. Recognition of his voice, even though it’s far deeper than I remember. “I was told you sometimes invest in startups.” “I’d say more than sometimes.” He raises his eyebrows as if I should’ve done my homework better. Ugh, Bryn! Focus! Be SMART! Make yourself and your business irresistible! A silence settles as he eyes me, slowly setting his drink down as he leans forward and finally, unexpectedly, smiles. At me. It’s just a smile. But the world tilts under its impact. “Hello, little bit.” Amusement touches his gaze as he tilts his head and watches me. “You know, I’d think you’d have grown up the ten-plus years since I last saw you. At least an inch.” He leans back in his seat, seemingly displeased. Wow, this guy is not the lanky kid I knew once. This guy oozes danger. Every ounce of “boy” is gone. Oh God. For a moment I wish that we could go back in time and I could discuss my startup with the guy I knew before. But time travel is not really my talent, and it seems like I have yet to see if I even have any special talents at all—depending on what this guy thinks. “I grew two in width,” I shock myself saying. He laughs then, his eyes drinking me in openly. “Shame on you, you’re not trying to see if it’s true?” I ask him, frowning now. He shrugs casually, his lips curved at the corners. “I can’t help it. Something has to have changed.” “Why?”

“Because nothing good ever lasts. Even you, little bit.” A smile touches those unforgettable gold-green eyes. A shiver runs through me. Because… Christos recognized me. “I can tell you’re as incorrigible as ever.” I shake my head, but I’m smiling, truly just relieved that he recognized me. “I try to be,” he purrs dangerously. I’m feeling warm all of a sudden. I can’t believe I’m staring at him so much, but it’s like I cannot take my eyes away. He looks achingly familiar, but at the same time, so different I cannot help but stare and track the differences in his features. The way his jaw squared out even more, the way his body filled out with hard, lean muscles that shift and ripple beneath his expensive designer clothes. I cannot believe that this is a guy I knew once. He seems to silently be taking in my changes too, his keen stare allowing me to see that he seems to approve of it all. Even the dress I’m wearing. “You changed enough for the both of us,” I blurt. “Really. How so?” he asks. “You grew into your nose.” “Really?” He chuckles as if despite himself. “Width and height too. Quite a bit,” I add. “Anything else,” he prods, one eyebrow rising. “You learned how to dress.” He looks down at his black suit. “This old thing?” He grins, then shifts forward, sobering up. “What can I do for you, Bryn? Considering I’m rather surprised to see you here, I’m eager for you to satiate my curiosity.” His stare becomes keen. “So am I. I didn’t expect to be here,” I admit, and for a moment when I look into his eyes, all I see is someone I’ve seen before. Someone who belonged in my life long ago. “You know when you had that misplaced crush on me and told me one day I’d know what it felt like to throw pebbles at someone’s window wanting

them to open? I’m sort of throwing rocks here.” “Not to sing me a love song,” he says flatly, his eyes shuttering. “No. Well, you know that was never…I mean…” Don’t bring up your rejection of him, Bryn! “It’s for something better. Business.” “Go on.” “I knew that’d get you.” I smile privately. “So it’s true your love is money now.” “She gives back what I put in. Though her ass isn’t as juicy as I like,” he says nonchalantly. “Wow. No matter how polished you look, your mouth is still as crude as ever.” “Thank you,” he purrs, his eyes grinning at me. I laugh. Then I sober up and realize he’s waiting for me to speak. “I’m looking for money for my startup,” I say. “How much.” “One hundred thousand.” “I don’t invest less than a million.” He twirls his whiskey in his glass, eyeing the liquid. “Well then, I’ll ask for a million.” He raises his brows, setting his glass down. “It’s not how much you want to ask for, it’s how much the company’s worth.” Eyebrows up, he skewers me with a cold, intimidating look. “It’ll be worth more than a million, trust me,” I bluff. “Good for you. Except…” he leans back with a rustle of clothes, every athletic inch of his black-clad body flowing sinuously like a feline with the move, “considering that has yet to happen and I’ll need to trust you on that, my trust needs to be earned.” This version of Christos is even more intimidating than the old one, unfortunately. I try to hide it, keeping my voice as level as possible. “How does one earn

your trust?” “I’d tell you if I were interested, but I’m not exactly sure that I am.” He eyes me as if debating in silence. This guy is the only guy in the world that unnerves me in this way, and I can’t seem to slow the fast pounding of my heart in my chest as I try to remember what I came here to say. “I have a full presentation for you. I’m not taking no for an answer.” I reach into my briefcase. “Darling. Are you ready?” I start at the female voice and glance at a gorgeous woman striding into the study. Christos continues looking at me as he stands and reaches for the cell phone the woman extends out. “We’re done here,” he answers her as he pockets the phone, his gaze remaining on me. “I’ll wait for you in the car.” She leans up and kisses his jaw, her hands proprietary on his chest, then sends me a woman-to-woman claiming look, before she swishes away, all glittering jewels and lean body. There’s a silence as he approaches, and for a second all I can hear is the sound of a toilet flushing, taking my only opportunity with a possible investor away. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Christos.” “I said I’ll think about it,” he says from the door. “Please do,” I say as he exits the room. I cup the sides of my mouth, “I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time?” I say jokingly. I’m surprised when I hear footsteps returning. He pauses when our eyes meet. “I’ll make contact,” he says, raising his eyebrows meaningfully, “If I’m interested in hearing more.” He nods. “Nice to see you, Bryn.” “Nice to see you. Christos.” Well, that went sort of awful.

No, it went beyond awful. I head out of his brownstone and am so stressed about how bad it went that, rather than head straight to my flat, I walk along the Upper East Side because…well, it’s something I do. Walking. It helps me think. But I’m so mind-fucked right now I can’t really think at all. There’s a heavy feeling in my chest, a tight little knot in my stomach, and I can’t seem to get past the moment Christos walked into the room and…was there. In the same space. After all these years wondering… just wondering. Endlessly. About him. He was a little aloof, a little playful, and a little too… Sexy, a little voice whispers. And he still has that pull on you, girl. I push that scary little thought aside, but I can’t stop thinking about Aaric. Aaric freaking Christos. It’s like Erick, pronounced similarly, but with an A at the beginning. The first letter of the alphabet, double in dose. You could say that describes the man perfectly. We met in high school, and he was always more than anyone could handle. Considering how difficult it’s been to get an appointment with him, that seems to continue to be the case. He was always…more. More than the norm, always the first. The first you’d see in a room. The first who’d dare the dares in the parties that no one else would. The first to offer help when you needed it, but also the first to sneer when you fucked up. He called me Lips. And “little bit”. And he wanted me. I wasn’t interested (at least, I never admitted to myself that I was). He left the city with his brother a few years after we met. And that was that. So this meeting was a bit of a wildcard. I didn’t know if he’d remember me, if he’d ever thought about me after he left. Twelve years is a long time, after all.

I’ve heard rumors about him from old school friends, Jensen included (who kept in touch with him when he left). I’ve heard of how much he has changed, how merciless and cold and threatening he has become—no longer the easygoing guy he used to be. It’s not like he’s involved in shady business—but he’s definitely a name that seems to inspire chills in other men. Even then, everyone wants him to consider investing in their startups. He only considers risky ventures, ventures the banks won’t touch. To be denied by Christos means your options are gone—and you’re basically fucked. I really don’t want to be fucked. But seeing him tonight, all-powerful and larger-than-life, I’m thinking I may be in way over my head here. Playing with the big boys in a business-game that I’m not sure I know how to play. Christos has clearly gone on with his life. He’s filthy rich, has a gorgeous girlfriend who calls him darling, and is some Manhattan hotshot. Me? My life is worse than it was when I was seventeen and in high school. After his mother died and he left my life, it’s like the sun left with him. One tragedy after another. I’ve been grappling to find my footing ever since. I’ve been sad, trying to figure out how and what could fill the hole and give my life meaning. It means something to me. My startup. It’s what I’m good at and what keeps me connected to my mom and dad. It’s also what I’ve grown to love. I’m thirty years old and this December, I’ll be thirty-one. I thought I’d be married and successful by this age. I’m neither. I’ve made peace with the things that don’t pan out as planned, but I’ve also still got dreams and moving to New York was my first step to prove how serious I am about them. The first step needed to make them come true. When I get to my small flat and realize my roommate Sara isn’t home yet, I sit down on my bed with some of my plans and sketches. The only thing that makes me feel good is getting lost in my own little world. But as I grab my drawing pens, I can’t seem to focus.

I pull out my laptop, boot it up, and open the web browser. I search Aaric Christos girlfriend. Miranda Santorini comes up. She’s a Manhattan socialite. They’ve been seen together for the past three months. Her dad owns real estate Christos is after, some speculate. I’m about to shut my computer when I hear Sara’s voice. “What are you looking at? Is that, whoa, lady boner alert—is that Aaric Christos?” I shut my laptop and turn. Sara put out an ad the week I arrived in Manhattan, I answered, we hit it off, and we’ve been rooming together ever since. Younger than me by two years, she’s tall and skinny, a ballerina with a broken ankle and a heart of gold, she works as a concierge at a four-star hotel Downtown. I’m surprised that she knows who he is. “How do you know him?” “Everyone knows him. He’s lava.” I groan despairingly. “He’s the whole volcano.” “How do you know him?” she asks. “He’s an old acquaintance. I saw him tonight.” I rub my temples, which are starting to throb from the pressure of remembering our meeting. “He looked really good. He’s like McDreamy—better as he matures. God, he looked so confident. Successful. Like he’s at the very pinnacle.” “Newsflash, he is. He’s huge around here.” She eyes me from the door. “Is that a banging look?” she asks mischievously. I flush and glance at my shut laptop. “Come on. He’s got a girlfriend.” She wags her brows. “You still want to bang him.” “No! It’s just…he was this boy I used to know. It’s…I don’t know. He’s the biggest what if I’ve ever had in my life. The one you always wonder about.” “I can’t believe you knew Christos.” She walks to my bed and drops down on it, kicking her shoes off and curling her legs beneath her as she sits. “Me either. He wanted me for a time, I guess. I never could go for it,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve always regretted it. I went to talk to him about business tonight, but it didn’t go well.”

“He’s probably thinking if you didn’t give him a chance, why should he give you one now?” “Maybe,” I agree, but I shake my head. “He doesn’t even know what I’m selling yet.” “Find a way to see him again. Find a way to get him to say yes.” “You know what?” I gather my laptop and shoot her a playful, chiding look. “Go and do your stuff, let me have my pity party.” She laughs and raps her knuckles to the wall behind my bed. “I’m right behind this wall if you need me.” I nod, then I grab my papers and pens. “How did your audition go?” I ask as she heads for the door. “As good as your meeting.” “Oh no,” I groan, raising my voice as she walks out. “You’ll get the part next time!” “You’ll get the guy.” “No. I’m not after the guy, Sara. I’m after money for my startup.” “Then he’ll show you the money,” she yells from the hall. “You had me at hello!” I yell back. I’m determined for him to see I’m not ashamed to throw more than rocks at his window. I’ll throw the whole bucket next time we meet.

Christos 18 hours ago… I smash the ball into the wall, nearly hitting Wells. “You get the ring?” he asks. “Yep.” I smash it again. “You’re really doing it?” I shrug. “Why not?” I turn and smash. Smash, smash. “Business as usual?” he asks. I head over for water, guzzle some down, and head back. Bounce the ball, smash. “We’re friends. We have fun together. We respect each other. She’s willing for us to have an open marriage. She gets my money. I get respect.” “Damn right!” he says. “Christos.” I hear a voice behind me. “Hill.” I greet Jensen, an old high school friend who is leaning on the glass door with his racket at his side. “Thirty seconds?” he says. I head over, wipe my sweat with a towel. “I’ve got a favor. I know someone who’s been trying to get a meeting with you

for weeks.” “I’m really busy.” I toss the towel at a nearby basket. “Yeah. Understatement.” He grins—a pause as he waits for me. “You think you can see her?” “I’m sorry, I really am busy.” I smile and slap his back. “Come on, it’s a special friend of mine. She wants your Midas touch on her startup. She’s your friend too.” I arch a brow. “Bryn Kelly. Remember her? Five feet tall. A little funny—” “I know Bryn,” I cut him off. “So will you see her?” Bryn Kelly. You look like a guy who thinks he’ll get to kiss me. I will. I push the thought out of my mind, unaware of how long I’ve been silent. A restless sensation grips me, and I scrape my jaw with my hand as I try to shake it aside. “My place tomorrow at 8. I’ll fit her in between changing and leaving for a thing with Miranda.” “Owe you.” He winks. “Let’s do dinner next weekend.” I lift my racket in consent as I walk away, grab the ball, and smash it against the wall so hard the glass enclosure rattles.

Bryn It’s Saturday evening, and I found a dog-walking stint to help pay my rent while I get my startup going. From noon to evening, I have a great time walking a group of small dogs, and three large dogs, separately. I end up soaked in sweat and distracted from my business worries, thankfully. Once I take the last dog home, a retriever named Milly, I get a gym coupon along with my payment from Mrs. Ford. May as well give it a shot, so I check out the new gym and get some stretching in before I take a shower and head out to hunt something to eat before I head home. I’m craving a salad from one of my favorite Tribeca markets. It has the most delicious balsamic dressing and lettuce that always has a perfect fresh crunch. The combination of berries with goat cheese always gets me. I’m easy like that. I call Jensen, but get his voicemail. “Hey. I need another appointment and I need it to be more than five seconds long. Stop ignoring my calls. I’m not backing out now!” Frustration eats at me. I hang up and sigh. I walk a couple more blocks into Tribeca and notice a sleek black car slow to a stop at the end of the block. A young couple exits the car, while another couple

waiting on the sidewalk steps up to greet them. They’re all dressed to the nines— the women in skirts and silk tops, the men in slacks and button shirts. It takes me less than a second to recognize the tallest among the men. Yeah. The broad-shouldered Tall Utterly dark Dirty-blond Handsome Extremely hot one. I slow down my pace. Swallowing back my disbelief, I pull out my earbuds and tuck my phone into my bag, my hand trembling slightly. I can’t believe it’s him. Is the universe finally getting in on my plan? What do I do now, walk and talk business? There’s no way I can do that. But it’s not like I can cross the street and avoid them, that would be infantile and obvious. I continue walking, my head canted down. I peek up and see the four of them are on the sidewalk under a restaurant awning, talking. The beat of my heart accelerates the closer I get. Aaric the boy would have made me feel safe, but Aaric the man makes me feel like a fish on a hook. Well, fuck that, if we’re going to be in business I can’t pay attention to my heart. I inhale and prepare to walk past when I hear— “Long time no see.” It’s Christos’s low, deep voice. My heart stops, then restarts with a pounding racket in my head. I turn my head, smiling as I do. “Well, if it isn’t my future business partner. I was just thinking of you,” I say. He leans over to greet me with a brush of his lips on my cheek. “I’m sure all

your thoughts of me color your face pink like that.” The touch makes me tingly and uncomfortable and hot. Hot all over. I widen my eyes. Is he seriously flirting with me in front of his girlfriend? What’s the deal with him? “Bryn? Is that you? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Come here!” Aaric’s brother, Cole, says as he pulls me into a hug. “Cole!” I say, hugging my old high school friend back. “Are you living here with your brother?” “Not with him—but I’m definitely a resident,” he concedes. After greeting the women—Miranda, Aaric’s blonde, who greets me coolly and looks down her nose at me, and Gwen, Cole’s blonde, who doesn’t bother to look me in the eye—I search for something to say as all four pairs of eyes examine me with interest. “I never expected to see you again.” I look at Aaric as I speak. Silently asking —are you willing to see me again or what, you stubborn man? He stares down at me, taking in my face, his expression unreadable but his eyes intense as he drinks me in. “We’re getting drinks, do you want to accompany us, Bryn?” Cole asks. Hesitation grips me. “Oh, I’d hate to be a fifth wheel,” I hedge. The women don’t look pleased about Cole’s invitation. Especially Christos’s blonde. “That term doesn’t exist between old friends. Come on. I’m sure my brother here would love to catch up with his Lips.” Aaric shoots his brother an icy look that makes my heart skip a beat, and the women purse their lips in jealousy. Christos meets my gaze and motions toward the restaurant door. I follow him. He towers over me as I step through the door he holds open for me. I can smell him. He smells different. More…dangerous. Familiar but new.

We shuffle inside, and the maître d' appears. “Mr. Christos, a pleasure as always. Your table is ready.” “We’ll be five tonight, David,” he requests. “Oh, of course! One minute.” The man hustles to accommodate him. “Are you certain?” I ask out loud. “Completely,” Cole answers. But when my face still shows doubt, Christos turns and says, “I insist.” His eyes meet mine, and as they do, a subtle electric current passes through me. “So are you two friends?” Christos’s date asks a bit snottily. “High school,” Christos says as we wait to be led to our table. I edge closer to Cole and push onto my tiptoes. “She’s beautiful. Is that why he likes her? She’s like model beautiful,” I say, trying to keep my voice low. He leans over, laughter in his voice as he nods with mock somberness. “She swears that while God took seven days in creating the world, Aaric would’ve taken six.” He winks as he straightens. I realize Aaric is watching us, and as his date speaks to the other girl, I say, “Sounds like she dotes on you.” His brows shoot upwards in amusement, and though he’s not smiling, his eyes begin to dance devilishly. “You two were talking about me.” Lightning fast, a warm flush runs up my face, and I quickly change the subject. “Anyway. Should I tell you about my business?” I say. God, he’s enjoying this. Isn’t he? He starts to follow the maître d' to our table, pushing his fingers into my back to urge me forward with one hand, while doing the same to his date with the other. “Not until I’m interested,” he leans down to say in my ear. “But— that doesn’t even make sense.” I frown and walk forward as he guides me. “You’re part of the business,” he says. “Yes. I am. What? You don’t want to do business with me…your little bit?” I ask in disbelief.

He shakes his head, his tone tender but rueful. “You’re not my little bit.” His thumb caresses my bare back, and a host of tingles climb up my spine and neck. “For old times’ sake.” He pulls out my seat, not answering. “Christos!” I hiss as he turns to his date. He helps her with her chair then takes a seat beside me. He leans close to me. “Can you relax and enjoy yourself without talking business?” He raises his eyebrows, challenging. I stare at his hard male chest and his thick throat, my head spinning dizzily at his words. He’s so close I can smell the soap and shampoo on his skin and hair, the cologne drifting from somewhere around him. “Excuse me while I go freshen up in the ladies’.” I inhale deeply and push away from the table. I enter the bathroom, but instead of heading for a stall, I stop at the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. He really pushes my buttons, this man. Even in school. He was the first workaholic I’d ever met. Fixed everyone’s phones, cars, and even sold tests. He was a little bit too bad, and I was a little bit too good. He was a demon in the making and I was still Daddy’s little angel. I suppose it was my fault that we never…that…well, I just could never believe he might actually want me. Not for keeps. I was too afraid to get hurt. I wash my hands, splash some cold water on my neck, and then head back to the table. I try not to stumble when I watch Christos lift his head from his conversation and quietly watch me return, that unreadable, dark gaze on me. I slide into my seat while conversation continues between the women and Cole— “—so there’s this endless line of people, and I…” Aaric’s hand is curved around his wine and his thumb is stroking the glass. Up and down. “So what brings you to the city?” Cole asks me when his date finishes with her anecdote.

“Business. I’ve been in town for six weeks.” “Good.” Christos moves his head closer to me and leans forward, as if to exclude the others from our conversation. “Plan to stay?” he asks, gruffly. I tilt my head to meet his gaze. “I’m living in Nolita with a friend. I have a gig dog walking since waitressing is not my thing. I’m looking for an investor for my startup and was hoping you would see me again.” “Call his office,” Cole interrupts. I look up at his handsome, but less intimidating, brother and smile. “I already did.” Christos digs a hand into his suit pocket and places a sleek white-and-silver letter card before my place setting. “Call again.” Christos meets my gaze and holds it, some sort of warning in his gaze. I’m not sure what he’s warning me about. That I need to be persistent? Or that I need to be sure that I want to do business with him? That maybe our close proximity… “—right, Christos? The best startups you’ve ever funded have always come to you unawares.” “Best things always creep up on you,” he agrees. I smile, but my smile falters when his date snuggles up to his side as if she thinks he was talking about her. I tremble as I take his card and tuck it into my pocket. “What happened to Kelly’s, Bryn?” he asks me, once again turning to speak to me in a low voice, as if wanting to exclude everyone. “Bankruptcy. We couldn’t keep it.” He looks at me and I see concern in his eyes, but I look away because his judgement is unbearable.

If he doesn’t like my idea, what will I do? I’d always thought I’d work at the Kelly department stores. Christos must notice how uncomfortable admitting Kelly’s fall was, because the rest of the evening he engages in conversation with everyone else—no more lowering his voice for one-on-one talks with me. Even Cole sent me a sad smile but made sure to drop the subject. By the time dinner is over, I definitely feel like a fifth wheel. A part of me wishes I were alone with Christos so I can talk to him, but another part of me feels vulnerable with him. Does he remember what it’s like to hustle or has all the success taken that away? After dinner, we step under the awning again. “Take you home?” Christos asks me as his black car pulls up to the curb. He asks me casually, but his gaze is intent, more demanding than his tone. “Oh no, I’ll walk. Thank you. Goodnight.” I say my goodbyes and his possessive, protective stare burns into my back as I head down the block. Walking to Nolita, I push in my earbuds and replay the meeting with a ball in my stomach. Christos’s voice, quietly asking me, What happened? I don’t know why the concern in his eyes got to me, enough I thought I’d sort of lose my cool. I’m sure he wanted to know more about what happened, and maybe even if I was okay. He could have hardly missed the news shortly after my parents’ death: that our department stores defaulted and had to declare bankruptcy. They were taken over. Everyone thought I had money from my parents that I could use to recover it. I didn’t. Now the Kelly stores belong to a huge conglomerate— someone who doesn’t have Kelly as their last name.